


bad boys ain't no good, good boys ain't no fun

by fanfictionandcats



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greasers, F/M, Gen, sort of? vaguely?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictionandcats/pseuds/fanfictionandcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He carries a blade tucked in his pocket and a cancer stick on his lip, he was always in the paper for getting into something, stealing this, setting that on fire. Girls whispered about him all the time in school, of his messy hair and shocking eyes and sharp tongue. </p>
<p>Her mother always said, devils are always handsome."</p>
            </blockquote>





	bad boys ain't no good, good boys ain't no fun

**Author's Note:**

> so i was debating whether or not to post this, but i decided i might as well (for sleeping hook week). 
> 
> this started off as an Outsiders AU, but then spiraled.

 

> _“Mighty youth, here and now / So come on honey cut yourself to pieces / Come on honey give yourself completely / And do it all though you can’t believe it / Youth knows no pain.”_
> 
> (Started off as a greasers / [Outsiders](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Outsiders_\(novel\)) AU but evolved from there.)

  
“That’s gorgeous.” Ella says, fingers hovering over the glass window of the store. Behind it is a pleated light blue skirt, dressed fashionably on a plastic model. “My mother would never let me get it, though, she’ll say it’s too short.”

The girls move on, passing advertisements for Johnson’s suntan oil and new ironing boards as they go. A man from a cadillac on the street whistles at them, and Ella giggles and waves.

They cross the street, and she locks eyes on him by accident. Smoking his pack of Kools on the corner, slumped down like he was too cool for good posture. He lived in his leather jacket, the collar turned up, and ripped up blue jeans, his dark hair slicked back. He’s a certified hood, straight down to the way he grins at other girls in that lewd way when they walks by.

He carries a blade tucked in his pocket and a cancer stick on his lip, he was always in the paper for getting into something, stealing this, setting that on fire. Girls whispered about him all the time in school, of his messy hair and shocking eyes and sharp tongue.

Her mother always said, devils are always handsome.

“Hey, that’s  _Hook_ , isn’t it?” Ella nods towards where he stands, saying his name like it’s a curse. “Thought he was still in the cooler.”

Aurora shrugs. “Guess not.”

“What do you think he got in for this time?”

She doesn’t reply, because now he’s looking at her and it makes her breath catch. She drops her eyes and speeds up her step.

  


 

•            •            •            •            •            •

  


“So. What’s the movie?” Jefferson asks, jumping over cracks in the sidewalk.

 

The town’s pretty dead tonight, even for a Friday. Everyone else’s already down at the drive-in or the bar on East, and all the stores on main street are just closing.

 

Hook grunts, shuffling along with his hands in his pockets and surveying the street. Snoozeville, USA.

 

“Some beach movie.”

 

“The ones with the girls in those tiny bathingsuits?”

 

He nods, taking a drag of his cigarette as they stride past the corner drugstore.

 

“Can I bum a weed?”

 

Hook tosses him his pack, blindly running his good hand over the rusty parking meters that line the street. The walk to the movies is a boring one, it’s always more fun when the whole pack’s there. But everyone’s got work or a date or somethin’ else to do. But Jefferson’s good company.

 

They slip in through the rip in the back fence, slinking past the ticket counter and the cars of people making out. Sauntering up to the front where the lawn chairs sit, they pick two in the back row.

 

The movie’s already started, and across the screen dances six girls in matching blue bikinis, throwing their heads back and laughing, hair still staying perfectly styled in the wind.  

 

The only other people without cars are two girls sitting in the row in front of them. One’s got blonde hair, the other longer, wavy brown hair. Jefferson nudges him and juts his chin in the direction of the girls, grinning. The girls look around their age, at least from the back.

 

Hook’s foot kicks the back of her seat hard. She whips around and glares at him expectantly, and he smiles the most apologetic, sincere smile he can muster (he’s a great actor).

 

“Sorry.”

 

She pauses skeptically for a moment.

 

“It’s fine.” She sniffs, and turns back around.

 

She didn’t seem like the fast girls that usually hung around his crowd. Then again, she probably wouldn’t even give him the time of day. She was one of those prissy girls that went to the school dances and organized pep rallies and went dress shopping every Sunday afternoon.

 

He remembers her seeing him around town, dainty little hands clutched around the strap her bag as she passed him, breath held. Intrigued, curious, but not stupid enough to say anything to him voluntarily. The type of guys she associated with were far from anything he was.

 

But she is pretty and he is bored.

 

“What a queen.” He says loudly. “Ain’t she a doll?”

 

“Hmmm, her friend sure is.” Jefferson replies.

 

The blonde girl sits up a little straighter in her seat, and nudges the brown-haired girl.  

 

“Hey babe.” Hook calls, but she doesn’t turn around. He leans back in his seat and rasps, “If I had a nickle for everytime I saw a girl as sexy as you, I’d have five cents.”

 

Jefferson barks a laugh.

 

The one with blonde hair sips her Coke languidly and unfazed. But the girl with the wavy brown hair’s shoulders hunch up and she looks powerfully uncomfortable. Hook continues, “Baby. Hey, baby!”

 

She still doesn’t turn around.

 

He leans up close to her ear. “Is that a mirror on your lap? ‘Cause I can see myself in it.”

 

“Could you please just  _shut up?_ ” She snaps, finally twisting around to glare at him.

 

He smiles smugly and sits back.

 

“Who’s gonna make me?  _You?"_

 

“If I need to.” She huffs. ”Would you please just be nice and leave us alone?”

 

“I’m never nice.”

 

Her eyes narrow. “You think you’re so cool, so high above the rest of us ‘cause you act like you don’t care about anything. Well, you’re not. And - “

 

“Do you mind?” He says, mockingly innocent.“I’m trying to watch the movie.”

 

“Oh, get bent!” She yells frustratedly, eyes blazing, turning back around and crossing her arms across her chest. Jefferson howls with laughter and flops his arm over his face.

 

“Well, you’re a feisty one. What’s your name?” He pauses, brushing his hand over her shoulder. She shrugs it off sharply. “Come on babe, I was just playing.”

 

“Don’t call me babe.” She says through gritted teeth.

 

“Then tell me your name and I’ll call you that.”

 

“Fine. It’s Aurora.” She replies flatly.

 

“Pretty.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Care for some Coke, Aurora?”

 

“I’m alright, thank you.”

 

“You sure? You want a 7-Up instead? Or perhaps I could interest you in some - “

 

“I said  _no._ ” She swings back around, her long hair falling in front of her face. She flicks it out of the way pointedly, and he smiles and licked his lips.

 

“Why’re you actin’ like such a wet rag, love?”

 

“Because I have no interest in  _anything_  from  _you._ ”

 

“Now, we both know that’s not true.” He says coolly

 

She opens her mouth to tell him off, when she’s interrupted by “Rory!”

 

He glances over his shoulder to find Phillip Prince hurrying up to him with his crew trailing after him. Prince is captain of the school’s football team, leader of all the snobby rich from the West Side. He looks all constipated and upright-citizen, his letter jacket shining like a damn coat of armor.

 

Hook rolls his eyes as the group gallops up to them.  

 

“What Phillip?” Aurora sighs.

 

“What are you girls doing over here with these bums?” A guy named Lance asks with a glare. Jefferson’s hand draws into a fist over the pocket where he keeps his blade.

 

“Ay, what’d you say about us?” He starts challengingly.

 

Phillip stands next to Aurora, “Come on, Rory, just - “

 

“No. I’m not going with you.”

 

He rubs his forehead helplessly, and Hook could almost laugh at how much of a pansy he looks. “Honey, I’m sorry, let’s talk - ”

 

“Why don’t you go talk to Mulan, you seem to enjoy that quite a lot.” She spits, crossing her arms across her chest and staring determinedly at the movie.

 

“It wasn’t…” Phillip sighs, “It wasn’t like that.”

 

“Then what was it like?!” Aurora snaps, standing up in her seat and pushing herself away from him. Phillip catches her arm, though.

 

“Move buddy, my girl can’t see the screen!” Someone hollers from the row of cars behind them. Neither of the boys move.

 

Phillip draws Aurora close to him and mutters something in her ear, which makes her expression soften. It pisses Hook off, but shit, who knows how those high-society bunch functions.

 

“I don’t know where you nosebleeds get off on callin’  _us_  bums, when you’re the ones in those ridiculous sweaters.” Hook says languidly, still leaned back in his seat.

 

“This costs more than your entire damn house, greaser.” Another guy pipes up from the back.

 

“Come on guys, let’s get outta here.” Phillip commands.

 

She removes herself from his grip, but not angrily. Phillip’s hand touches her lower back, ushering her away, and the gang follows.

 

“Y’all have a nice night now.” Hook shouts. He salutes after them, adding, “Good seein’ ya, Dick.”

 

A guy in a mustard yellow knit sweater and middle-parted hair turns and bites back, “It’s Rich.”

 

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s Dick.”

 

Jefferson falls back into his seat cracking up.

 

“Well, catch ya’ later, babe!” Hook hoots. Her eyes flashed back to him, and something makes her shiver in a not-unpleasant way.

  


 

•            •            •            •            •

  


There’s a bar on the edge of town, just barely within the boundary line, that was converted from some old barn. There are rooms above the bar too, where a certain type of people tend to congregate.

 

She stands some feet from the door, a nervous lump in her throat rising. She squeezes her fist in an effort to calm herself down, and takes a deep breath. Determinedly, she walks the rest of the way across the field to the lone house, sporting a red sign reading Bill’s.

 

As Aurora pushes opens the screen door, the neon lights of the beer logo behind the bar almost blind her, and she can’t hear anything over the blaring rock-and-roll sounding from the jukebox. Everyone in here looks like they could snap her in two and probably wouldn’t hesitate to do so. They all spare her a second glance as she moves through, until she can get to the bartender who owns the place.

 

Quelling her nerves, she clears her throat.

 

He’s a fat, balding man cleaning glasses with a dirty washcloth, and when she finally manages to get his attention, he only smirks and says, “Well, hello darlin’. What can I getcha?”

 

“I’m looking for Hook.” She says, repeating what she’s been rehearsing to say her whole drive down here.

 

The man grunts and moves out from behind the bar, shoving past tough guys and drunk couples to the foot of some rickety wooden stairs. She follows him, but carefully and not too closely.

 

Resting a meaty hand on the stair’s bannister, he thunders, “Hook! There’s a girl here for ya!”

 

A few seconds later, Hook comes stumbling down the steps, only wearing a pair of blue jeans and a dirty white wifebeater. He’s got tattoos up his arms that she sees for the first time. Hmmmm.

 

“What? Didja get this one pregnant too?”

 

Hook shoves at the bartender’s shoulder jokingly, and the man barks a laugh and shuffles back into the crowd.

 

“Well well.” He sing-songs. “Couldn’t resist me after all, yeah?”

 

“Can we talk outside?”

 

He grins, and she can just imagine how much he’s relishing how out of place she looks here. “Sure.”

 

She doesn’t miss the way the bartender winks at him as he leaves with her. She pushes open the screen door harder than she needs to, and it slams into the outer wall before bounces back shut.

 

She strides out away from the building.

 

“No blades tomorrow, right?” She asks, hands bunching in the fabric of her skirt. “You’ll play fair?”

 

Tomorrow, ten o’clock, Southside park. West side versus East side rumble. It was nothing new, there was one almost every other month. It never managed to solve anything but get a few greasers shut in jail and the rich kids who should have been caught let off easy, but it was just something that happened.

 

But this felt different. Tensions on both sides were higher than they’d ever been. She’d heard the guys talking about it, and she imagined the worst.

 

“We’ll play fair if they do.” He says childishly. He crosses his arms over his chest, which makes the muscles on his arms flex.

 

“They will. Phillip said so.”

 

“Hmmm.  _Phillip_  said, so it  _must_  be true.”

 

“It is. He wouldn’t lie.” She insists. “He’s a good guy.”

 

He scoffs. “A good guy? Funny for  _you_  to say that, I thought there was trouble in paradise.”

 

“There isn’t.” She replies flatly, turning her back to him and staring out at the streetlights lining the road.

 

“What about that chick he’s always around with?” She knows he’s doing it to get a rise out of her. She’s angry it’s working.

 

“There’s nothing wrong.”

 

“Then why are you here?”

 

She falters. “To… to make sure you’re not gonna do anything stupid tomorrow. I don’t want anybody hurt.”

 

“You coulda said that to any of us. Or Prince coulda sent one of his guys over, if he wanted to be so sure. You knew I’d be here. You came all this way, to the bad side of town, all by yourself.”

 

He raises his eyebrow at her, and she’s sick at his know-it-all attitude. “And?”

 

“Have you ever been kissed?”

 

It shocks her out of annoyance.

 

“What? That’s...that’s none of your business.”

 

Maybe Phillip didn’t know she’d come. Maybe even Ella hadn’t known. But it wasn’t for… it wasn’t to see  _him_. She didn’t need that, she only -

 

“ _Really_  kissed? Where you feel it in your toes?” His eyes are purposeful in the dark, staring at her unwaveringly. “Where you can’t stop thinking about someone, like they take over your whole brain, and you can’t think about anything else until you see them again, until you  _touch them again?_ ”

 

Her heart’s beating in her ears and she can hear her mother yelling at her to move away, don’t let him get any closer, that this is wrong and dirty and she must feel nothing but contempt for this degenerate.

 

She is Phillip, sweet and wholesome, her mother’s apple pie and a glass of warm milk. She is not herself here, with a dark villain whispering sins in her ear. She remembers his mugshot in the paper and the dirt stain on his shirt and the crass way he talked to her at the drive-in.

 

But his words reverberate through her bones, and the restless impulse that she’s been trying to stamp down for years rears its ugly head.

 

He’s moving closer to her. Why isn’t she stepping back?

 

His hands are inches from her hips and their noses seem about to touch. She should never have come here.

 

He smells like cigarettes.

 

His lips press to hers and there is nothing innocent about it. She feels the heated pressure of his hands sit low on her hips. They stay like that for a moment before his mouth opens against hers and she mirrors him, and then he delves his tongue into her mouth. She’d only done this once before, with Phillip when he was drunk, and it was wet and messy and weird.

 

But Hook’s tongue is hot and purposeful, the rhythm of his mouth making her knees feel weak and she holds onto his shoulders to keep upright. And it feels like someone’s filled her up with fireworks, lit the fuse, and they’re all exploding in her stomach like the fourth of July.

 

They both unravel together. He kisses her more frantically, fingers tightening in their grip, like he’s desperate to get as much as he can from her before she comes to her senses and pulls away.

 

She should pull away.

 

“No, no, stop.” She pushes his chest away hard, and his hands come off her quick. “I can’t do this.”

 

“‘Course you can’t.” He mutters, face pointed towards the ground. His hands dig into pockets and his jaw is clenched.

 

Her stomach twists and she can’t look at him anymore.

 

She walks away into the darkness, towards where her car is parked. Feet heavy and eyes burning, and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand.

 

* * *

 

_Come on honey cut yourself to pieces_

_Come on honey give yourself completely_

_And do it all though you can't believe it_

_Youth knows no pain_


End file.
